


Fait Accompli

by LaurenCrabtree



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Dream Cycle - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: (Done by Non-Human Characters), Condescending Nyarlathotep, Face Slapping, Human Trafficking, Humiliation, I May or May Not Write a Part Two to This, Kidnapping, M/M, Omorashi, Public Humiliation, Riding Crops, Slavery, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 15:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15932807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurenCrabtree/pseuds/LaurenCrabtree
Summary: An alternate ending to Carter’s first kidnapping in which the moon-wine has some side effects.





	Fait Accompli

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo; the requester wishes to remain anonymous. They requested Rantep + Humiliation. If you want to request a fic or just chat, you can find me on Tumblr at @laurencrabtree.

Randolph Carter had lost count of the hours. He had been on this godforsaken ship for far too long, and counting had stopped working to alleviate his boredom a long time ago. To add insult to injury, he was surrounded by people, people he would have cherished the opportunity to talk to in this moment, but he had seen what would happen if he tried. Not long after he had woken up, two of them had tried to converse only to be promptly silenced by a crop to the face courtesy of the almost-human attendant. After that, nobody spoke, and it was evident that everyone else was just as bored as he was.

 

 _At least,_ he thought, _it’s not too cramped in here._ He debated laying down and trying to sleep again, but he knew that he wasn’t nearly tired enough to actually do it, and besides, the floor wasn’t exactly made of goosedown.

 

Carter would have even been content to draw pictures in the dust had there been any, but he had been pleasantly surprised upon waking to find that the ship was actually quite clean. Now, however, it wasn’t so pleasant, and a small part of him wished he could have wound up on one of the old, rotting, rat-infested ships he had heard horror stories about if only to quell his restlessness. Resigning himself back to sitting up against the wall, he began to amuse himself by trying to mentally list all of the Dreamlands’ cities in alphabetical order. _Arizim, Arvle-Woondery, Asagehon…_ The minutes ticked by, and he wondered how much longer it would be before they reached their destination. _Ilarnek, Inganok, Irem…_ He thought back to the last time he visited Irem. Its citizens were dull as rocks, but at least the food there was good. _Sarkis, Selan, Sinara…_

 

As he got closer to the tail end of the alphabet, Carter began to feel something that, while not especially surprising, distressed him nonetheless. _He needed to use the bathroom._ He knew there was nowhere on the ship where he could do so, so he kept sitting and tried to tune out the slowly growing feeling in his bladder by finishing up his list.

 

 _Teloth…_ How much farther did they have to travel, anyway? He had no idea where they were going, and now more than ever that fact filled him with dread. _Thorabon…_ He wondered what would happen if he couldn’t hold it. Nothing good, that was for sure; he had seen what would happen if anyone talked, and he highly doubted that the punishment for wetting oneself would be less severe. _Thran…_

 

He couldn’t remember what came after Thran. On a regular day, perhaps he could have, but his bladder felt so full that it was distracting him to the point where he couldn’t concentrate. He tried standing up and crossing his legs, but it did nothing to alleviate the pressure; rather, it had the exact opposite effect and made it feel that much more intense. He tried biting his lip and digging his nails into his skin hoping that the pain would be a good enough distraction, but it wasn’t; he still felt like he needed to go just as badly. He tried simply taking deep breaths, focusing on making them as even as possible, but that didn’t help either. Carter silently cursed the merchant for drugging him with that moon-wine. He wondered if the contents of the wine were what made him need to pee so urgently or if it was simply the amount of time he had been on the ship. Either way, he didn’t feel like he could hold it for much longer.

 

Carter desperately scanned the ship once more looking for an alcove, a corner, any place that would be even slightly hidden from anyone’s view, but he came up with nothing. Everywhere he could go, someone would be able to see him. With his face flushed and a lump in the pit of his stomach, he finally sat back down and admitted defeat. Unless they arrived at their destination within the next few minutes, he was going to piss himself.

 

And then he had an idea. It was a long shot, but it was the only way to find out if he could get out of this with his dignity intact. He turned to the person standing nearest to him and began to speak as softly as possible.

 

“Do you know how much longer it’ll be until we—”

 

Before he could even finish his sentence, he received a sharp, stinging smack across the cheek. How the attendant had gotten there so quickly, he didn’t know; perhaps the almost-humans were a more advanced species than he thought. He didn’t feel it initially, but a few seconds later, Carter could sense something warm trickling down his legs and a lessening of the pressure in his bladder. He was mortified.

 

The attendant let out a low laugh.

 

“Nyarlathotep will be pleased,” he said, his voice tinged with devious amusement.

 

 _Nyarlathotep._ As if things couldn’t get any worse, Nyarlathotep would be seeing Carter in this utterly terrible state. Before he could dwell on that further, though, he felt a series of bumps rattle the ship and he knew that they had likely reached their destination.

 

He expected the attendant to guide everyone out, but the almost-human simply went aboveboard himself, without a word to any of the slaves-to-be below.

 

The tension that followed was thick enough to be cut with a knife—at least, it was for Carter. As he stood there stone-still in a puddle of his own urine, he wondered what Nyarlathotep’s intentions would be for him. None of the possibilities were good, and based on what he knew about the Outer God, his chances of escape were practically nil. He sighed. _He could get out of this,_ he told himself. _He would somehow._

 

“Did you find the one I asked for?” A smooth voice interrupted his thoughts.

 

“Yes.” Carter looked up to see that the attendant had returned with Nyarlathotep in tow, and they were walking straight towards him. He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to tune out their words.

 

“I must say, I appreciate you going to all this trouble to bring him here; I know it’s not something you do often. And letting me come below deck, too… This is a privilege indeed, to see how they’re transported. It’s certainly—Oh.” Carter didn’t have to open his eyes to know what Nyarlathotep had seen. His voice was close enough where Carter knew the Outer God was looking right at him—or more precisely, at the puddle he was standing in.

 

“Yes, he did have a little accident on the way here; I suggest you put him through some training to resolve that.” The way the attendant said those words infuriated Carter to no end; despite knowing it was a bad idea, his instincts prompted him to speak up.

 

“No, you don’t understand, I’m perfectly capable of—”

 

“Shh,” Nyarlathotep placed a hand over Carter’s mouth. “I’m sure you’re capable of doing a lot of things. But suffice it to say your life will be quite different with me.”

 

“How?” The word came out muffled through Nyarlathotep’s hand, which tightened its grip as Carter spoke.

 

“No more talking for now, Randolph Carter.” In a split second, Carter found himself in the Outer God’s arms, being carried up the stairs and onto the deck. “Thank you again,” he spoke to the attendant as he left. “I’ll be sure to repay you at the next meeting.”

 

When the initial shock of being picked up had worn away, Carter began to struggle, attempting in vain to kick at Nyarlathotep, to bite him, to wrench himself out of his grasp, but to no avail.

 

“You humans never fail to amuse me,” Nyarlathotep mused, tightening his hold on Carter. “Trying to get away even when you know you can’t. It’s adorable, really.” Carter didn’t respond; he knew that doing so wouldn’t lead to anything good. And as much as he hated to admit it, Nyarlathotep was right about the futility of Carter’s struggling; he found himself growing worn out more quickly than he expected. Giving in to his own fatigue, he allowed himself to sink into Nyarlathotep’s arms, and he could feel the Outer God bring a hand up to ruffle his hair.

 

“That’s better. Now let’s go back home; I really should get you cleaned up.” Carter didn’t know where “home” was, but he had a feeling it wasn’t his own. Surrendering for the moment to Nyarlathotep’s actions, he closed his eyes and allowed the Crawling Chaos to take him there. _I can find a way out of this eventually,_ he told himself.

 

At least, he hoped so.


End file.
